


The Winter Sentinel

by james



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sentinels & Guides, First Meetings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-03-06 19:46:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18857866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/james/pseuds/james
Summary: Bucky tests as a Sentinel when he's thirteen, and he knows it means his life won't be easy.Which is a bit of an understatement, really.





	The Winter Sentinel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tarot_card](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarot_card/gifts).



Prologue

Bucky tested as a Sentinel when he was thirteen. His folks cried – his Ma insisted it was a happy cry, of course it was, but even at that age Bucky understood it meant that his life would never really belong to him. Sure, he was happy – being a Sentinel meant he'd never hurt for a job, meant he'd probably earn enough to help out his folks. A good thing, given how things had gone all horrible and crazy in the past year, with people calling it the worst economic crisis ever. But Sentinels and Guides were too valuable to go jobless, even if he'd only have two prospects for legal work. (Illegal work would be easy to come by and paid amazingly well, but it was dangerous; everybody knew that Sentinels working for Families tended to die young.)

He could be a cop, which meant he'd probably get to stay in Brooklyn. He could claim home territory if he wanted, and stick close to his family. But chances were good he'd be trained to hunt down Sentinel criminals. The papers were full of stories about Sentinel fights and the way they relentlessly hunted one another down and Bucky wasn't sure he could stomach that. The other option was to join the military and go wherever they sent him. It still meant danger, sure, but it also meant travel and adventure and honestly Bucky could see the appeal of it. Long as they didn't go to war, there wasn't much to it, and anyway folks said the Great War had put an end to that sort of thing.

Bucky didn't know if he believed it, but traveling around the world sounded a lot more exciting than staying in Brooklyn. In school, testing as a Sentinel made him popular, but it didn't get him out of doing his homework and it sure didn't make the Principal let him off the hook for cutting class. After the fervor died down after test results came out, the other kids mostly forgot about it, and Bucky had to go back to getting by on charm and a smile.

His abilities wouldn't manifest until he was grown up, but thinking about finding his Guide – maybe even finding a soulmate and having someone at his side forever, protecting their town or their country or whatever – it seemed a lot more exciting than the brochures they'd given him to read made it all sound.

When Steve turned thirteen he'd gotten tested too, like everybody else, and had come back as latent Sentinel. It would have been almost as exciting as testing as a full Sentinel, except for how he wasn't very healthy, so the service told him and his Ma that probably they wouldn't be able to match him with a latent Sentinel girl to have lots of babies, hoping they'd produce a real Sentinel. Steve acted like it was fine, and they could tell his Ma was hoping he'd still hit a growth spurt and manifest for real when he grew up. But Bucky knew Steve wasn't really counting on it. They talked about other things, mostly, and as they grew up they talked about Steve's art and Bucky's career choices and promised each other they'd eventually live next door to one another, white picket fence and all.

Then the Second Great War started and Bucky got conscripted. The Army trained and paired him up with whatever Guide they felt like giving him, and he figured out pretty quick they were rotating him through all of their available Guides, male and female both, so they could hopefully match him up with his True and get a stronger, Bonded Pair. But he didn't bond with any of them, not really, just got along well enough to work with most of them. 

It was frustrating to constantly be given a new partner, sometimes he'd only have a Guide for a week before they got shipped out and they assigned him a new one. It made him dizzy, and it was hard learning to recognise his Guide when it was somebody new all the time. So when he met the Howling Commandos and discovered he actually liked them, he 'casually' mentioned how he felt really comfortable with the two Guides on that team, and suddenly he'd found himself assigned permanently. Neither Gabe nor Jim were his True, but they felt a lot better than any of the other Army Guides he'd been paired with.

Then Azzano happened. Steve showed up looking like a fucking Adonis and all his latent Sentinel abilities online, and more. Erskine had figured out how to make a Sentinel – make a fucking Sentinel – and everyone had apparently gone bug-fucking bonkers. Bucky tried not to think too much about it, easy enough when his head was swimmy and he could barely sleep for dreaming about things he didn't understand. But Steve made it better, and Gabe and Jim and the other Howlies did their best to Guide them, and gradually Bucky settled in to fight with Steve at his side, two Sentinels, one of whom seemed determined to take Europe by storm.

And then.

Everything went black.

~ ~ ~ ~

Once in awhile Bucky opened his eyes. _Bucky_ opened his eyes, feeling like he might in control of his body instead of the silent and deadly conditioning they'd forced into his head. The moments of awareness never lasted, but Bucky was familiar enough with it happening to take quick stock of the situation. This time he was high off the ground, the roar of engines and scent of explosions everywhere threatening to overwhelm him, except he still had all the fucking training burned into him that let him focus without a Guide and ignore the pain. He ignored the roaring in his ears and the smells filling his nostrils and the feel of blood dripping down his skin and-- Steve. 

Steve was there. Staring at him, dressed in that outfit, and.

And.

Bucky reached out with all his senses, away from the burning around them and focusing just on Steve. It really was him. He was looking at Bucky, saying something about not doing this, more words echoing in his memory.

He was wearing that stupid outfit. Bucky's awareness flickered in and out and he was moving, Steve was moving; Bucky was trapped and then he wasn't, and Steve was still there. Steve. Here.

And then he fell.

Bucky watched. His senses latched on to him – heart beating, oh so familiar scent of him, etched into Bucky's deepest memories. Steve, real as the vibrating metal under Bucky's boots, real as the wrenching pain in his shoulder. 

Falling.

He jumped.

~ ~ ~ ~

Bucky sat on the side of the river, watching Steve's chest rise and fall, and knew he was gonna live. 

Bucky stood up and walked away.

And.

There was a pull in his chest.

His Guide. Bucky closed his eyes.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Bucky didn't know where he was. He'd walked for a day or two, maybe more, out of the city and away from Steve. He found himself staring at a range of mountains, signs and well-trod trails telling him about trail access. He debated turning around, going back to find Steve. Finding out what had happened to him, how he was even here.

He thought about walking further west, or south, finding someplace to hide. HYDRA wouldn't let him go easily, but he'd run before and it was damn sure worth trying again. Handful of days and he hadn't been caught, yet, which he felt like was maybe the longest he'd managed to stay gone. This time was different – the tug in his chest, Steve, the noise in his head that made him feel more like himself than he could recall.

He'd never really felt like _himself_ before. He didn't know if he felt like himself, now, but since the moment he'd come to and seen Steve, he'd felt the tug of his True Guide.

Right now they were away to the north, and the trail map showed that Bucky could easily follow it that direction nearly the entire way up the continent. His heart pounded at the idea and he didn't move. What was he now, to endanger his Guide? HYDRA would capture them both, train his Guide the way they'd tortured and trained him. A feeling of rage built up even at the idea and Bucky had to shove it quickly down. He hadn't even met his Guide and his protective instincts were threatening to send him howling.

He could go back and beg Steve to take him in and protect him, but he didn't honestly know if that could happen. Was it even really Steve? It had been decades, Steve should be dead.

Maybe they'd frozen him, like had been done to Bucky. Maybe someone had figured out how to clone the first Captain America, artificial Sentinel. Bucky knew he could go ask, find out why his masters had been so afraid of Steve, had worked so hard to kill him. Maybe Steve's employers or masters or whoever would take Bucky in and protect him. Maybe Steve could help him find his Guide and protect them both.

Bucky crouched in the woods, hidden away from the road and the parking lot, watching as cars came and went, hikers came and went along the trail. He had no way of knowing the answers to any of his questions, not without finding a town and finding some way to make contact.

He had another choice. He could go back, hunt them down. Avoid Steve, but find HYDRA and Pierce and kill every single one of them. Maybe when he was done, he could risk tracking down his Guide. 

If. If, if, if. Bucky had no idea what to do. He sat in the woods watching the trailhead and the intermittent hikers, listening to his heartbeat and the tug northward. He thought about Steve, behind him, lying in a hospital room. He thought about going west, crossing an ocean and spending the rest of his future hiding. Maybe he'd eventually find the courage to go find his Guide. Later, when all this mess was dealt with.

Assuming his Guide waited for him. They'd already been waiting for how long already – Bucky realised he had no idea when his Guide had even been born. If, like usual Sentinel-Guide pairs, they'd been born within a few years of one another, his Guide had already been waiting a lifetime.

Bucky stood up and started walking. 

~ ~ ~ ~

He followed the trail at a distance, paralleling it easily and staying out of sight of the few hikers he encountered. Bucky wasn't outfitted like a proper hiker so he couldn't risk being on the trail itself and drawing attention. He made a stop after a few hours at another trailhead – according to the signs and map there was a small town nearby where hikers could resupply. On his trek towards the town he considered his options. He could steal a pack, some sunglasses and one of those floppy hats that seemed to be popular and hike along the smoother, clearer trail proper. Or he could just stay out of sight, creep through the trees and bushes, and hope no Sentinels came hiking through and noticed him.

He'd been lucky so far – or maybe Sentinels didn't go in for hiking. Bucky had no idea how plentiful Sentinels were anymore; back in his day they were plentiful enough if not exactly common. He'd had had a briefing once – the memory of it chopped and blurry and painful – but recently enough he knew the world's population had grown quite a bit. No one had bothered to tell the Winter Soldier about the current ratio of Sentinels and Guides to general population, and besides which even in Bucky's day there was always work to do and not a lot of time leftover to go on a vacation that felt a lot like work.

The weather was nicer than his stint in the Army, or so his body was telling him. His boots and socks were better quality, and he'd stolen a second pair of wool socks when he'd grabbed some protein bars and water. His feet weren't about to fall off from trench foot, at least, even if the long march he'd assigned himself wasn't any sort of vacation he'd choose for himself.

As he walked he wished he'd stolen a radio, or phone. He kept thinking about Steve. Was he still alive, had they actually won this time. The news he'd gleaned from the last couple of towns told him people were hopeful, cautious, and mad, but most of them were talking about the US Government and some horde of records that had been made public, and not as much about Captain America's current health. 

He made mental notes of each shop he stole supplies from, a few pieces here and one or two there so nobody would notice missing inventory right away. Steve wouldn't approve-- Bucky shook his head. Steve would give him what-for for not just marching in and making a collect phone call to have Steve come pick his ass up from the middle of the mountains.

But Bucky couldn't risk it, couldn't even decide what he was really doing. Still going north – still following the tug on his chest, even if he couldn't quite tell himself and believe it, that he was going to keep walking until he found his Guide. Maybe he'd find them, but not contact them just yet. He ignored how his Guide would be feeling the same tug in their chest, know their Sentinel was just to the south and was coming closer every day.

He could still run. He knew he could stay out of sight of the average citizen, covert surveillance and learn what he could about his Guide before he revealed himself.

There was another trailhead coming up, and Bucky paused in a small, protected spot, and listened. The trail in both directions seemed quiet of human hikers. Bucky shook himself, reluctantly grateful for the training he'd been given that allowed him to function without a Guide. His head hurt like a bitch, but between the training and the the super-serum they'd given him, he could focus when he needed to without zoning out.

The lack of footsteps meant he could risk the trail and walk a bit faster and easier. Maybe there'd be a water fountain where he could refill his canteen without adding iodine drops – they made the water taste horrible, but he couldn't risk a fire to boil it. His body could fight off anything he ingested from contaminated water, but the iodine bottle had been on the shelf next to the canteen he'd helped himself to, and reflex had grabbed the bottle up before he could question it.

His feet hit the trail and he began following it, allowing himself to look around and – for a bit – enjoy the scenery. He could understand why people would want to do this for fun – he didn't think he ever would, but he could understand why other people might.

He didn't have to pay attention to his footing, looking around instead at the tree tops, watching for birds and listening to the creek not too far off. The trail came around a small hill, curving around its side, and he saw up ahead the small parking lot and picnic area.

Off to one side was a fancy car and a man was leaning against it. He was staring towards Bucky, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses. His face pointed right at him like he'd known the moment Bucky was going to come around--

Bucky's hand went to his chest and realised that tug was starting to pound. The guy kept looking at him, not moving, casual and relaxed. Waiting.

Bucky found his feet moving again, and mentally he shrugged. If it turned out not to be safe, at least they'd have this. They could meet. Maybe he could explain, without precisely explaining, and his Guide would be content to let him go. Maybe--

He got closer and the man kept watching him. At least he didn't look 80 years old – hadn't wasted his entire life waiting for Bucky to show up. He was smiling, a little, and as Bucky got closer he felt like he couldn't stop walking, pulled in like his Guide was reeling him out of a river. He left the trail and his feet crunched gravel, and his Guide took off his sunglasses. Bucky saw hazel, and joy, and.

Oh.

Bucky stopped.

His Guide walked forward, slipping his sunglasses into a pocket. He was still smiling, like either he had no idea who Bucky was, which was impossible, or like he didn't think there was any sort of problem with Iron Man being the Winter Soldier's Guide, which was also pretty impossible. 

Tony Stark, one of the faces in the briefing he'd got the second time he'd been sent out to kill Captain America. Watch out for his allies, they're formidable, but you are welcome to kill any of them as long as you complete your mission.

Bucky stopped in front of his Guide, felt his mouth open and slammed it shut because what the fuck was he supposed to say. Hi, I'm your Sentinel, sorry for trying to kill everybody. Sorry for all the ones I did kill.

Sorry for having to meet you then run away.

Still smiling like he knew something, Stark said, “JARVIS, we have contact.” 

There was an earbud in his ear, and Bucky heard a tinny voice reply, “Indeed, Sir. Shall I begin Operation Rosebuds?” The voice sounded dry and sarcastic, and for some reason Bucky didn't think that Operation Rosebuds meant Iron Man was going to repulser him in the face.

The thought made him reflexively tense up, which Stark noticed, reaching out one hand in a distinctly non-repulser-aiming fashion. “Ignore JARVIS's sense of humor,” he said quickly. “When you get to know him, you'll realise you can ignore everything he says, not just his attempt at jokes.”

That didn't make any sense, but Bucky found himself at a loss for how to even ask for clarification. He just stood there – feeling stupid, and lost, and like he wanted to just nod and do whatever his Guide told him to. He caught himself as he flinched forward, then a flash of memory: as a kid he'd leaned up against his Ma at the end of a trying day at school. Rest against her while she cooked, rocked the baby and did a dozen other chores with him underfoot.

Ever since he'd got free of HYDRA, his memories had been bubbling up inside his brain, confusing him and making him feel like he was going crazy. Walking in the woods had helped, actually, letting him learn how to breathe and walk and not think about much of anything at all.

Staring at his Guide's face should have been – any of a dozen things. Bad, terrifying, horrific. Miraculous. A dream, maybe. He thought maybe they were all there, hidden underneath his chest which was screaming at him to reach over and touch.

Something in Stark's face changed, and Bucky wondered if they'd bonded without him noticing. Sentinels and Guides couldn't really read each other, not like so many of those movies liked to say, but soulmate pairs were supposed to be close and maybe there had been some lecture that said sometimes they could feel things the other was feeling. His memory was spotty, but he could hear a bored woman's voice saying things like 'emotions' and 'contact.'

Except they hadn't even touched yet, had barely met, and Bucky sure didn't want to inflict all the shit in his head on someone else. He forced himself to lean back a little, not enough to telegraph it if he decided to make a run for it, but enough to remind himself he had no idea if he was prepared for this.

“So we have a few choices,” Stark said, and he was talking quietly and calmly, not quite Guide-Voice-Calm but close enough. Bucky scowled because he wasn't freaking out, he wasn't Zoning, so why the fuck was he pulling Guide Voice on him.

Stark flashed a quick grin at him, but then grew more serious. “The first choice depends on how safe you feel out here.” He waved a hand like Bucky didn't know where they were. “We can get in the car and drive straight to New York, hole up in the Tower. I can guarantee you no one will be able to get at you there. If you prefer speed over stealth we can call in one of the remaining QuinJets, cut that time in a third.”

So, that answered Bucky's lingering doubts that Stark knew what he was up against. It didn't mean Bucky had the right to endanger him, but at least he wasn't entirely stupid.

Talking like he didn't expect an answer, Stark continued, “The second choice is to drive up to Pittsburgh, which is the closest mecca of civilization from here, not that Pittsburgh can be considered _civilization_ mind, but they must have at least one Five Star hotel, which comes with clean clothes, full-sized bath tub, the works. We can stay there and eat expensive food and discuss what sort of Sentinel-Guide pairing men in the 40s were expecting when their partner turned out to also be a dude.”

Bucky frowned at him. How was that question even relevant? Bucky didn't even know if he could stay, there were still a lot more reasons why it was safer for them both for Bucky to run, hide from everybody – including, maybe especially, his Guide. Thinking about what kind of relationship they wanted implied a lot of things Bucky couldn't even wrap his head around. Like staying. He had a flash of walking away, leaving his Guide standing here, leaning against his flashy car. Not looking back.

There was a pain in his chest, zipping through his lungs and heart like somebody had sliced him open.

Fuck him sideways. How the fuck had he bonded to his Guide when they'd never even touched?

Stark was still talking like Bucky was hanging on every word. “The third choice is, I have to say, my preference, and that is to go into the town which is a five minute drive away – don't listen to JARVIS about speed limits, it's five minutes, tops. We check into the tiny motel there and get you into the shower.” Stark paused, and wrinkled his nose. “No offense, Barnes, but you stink.”

Bucky blinked. He stared at his Guide, who just stared back at him and waited.

A soft breeze kicked up and Bucky caught a whiff of himself.

Yeah, okay, maybe he had a point. A shower and a hot meal and he still had the option to leave, and maybe he could spare a few hours talking to his Guide.

Stark held out his hand, calm and collected, not making any move to force Bucky into taking it. Bucky knew what it would mean – skin to skin contact, if they really were the soulmate kind, they'd know. They'd more than know, they'd bond, and then that would be the end of it. Or the beginning, Bucky found himself thinking.

After all this time he'd finally found his True. That tug in his chest didn't happen for just any Guide, and now, despite everything – here he was.

Bucky thought one more time about just ignoring it, saying yes to the motel and getting resupplied – Stark could afford to pay for his shit at least. Take a day or a few hours, then leave. There was a flash of something in his Guide's eyes, but Stark didn't move, didn't say anything else. But his eyes made Bucky think he knew what was spinning through Bucky's mind.

He had the weirdest feeling his Guide would prove really tenacious about hunting Bucky down. He'd get Steve in on it as well, and they'd dog Bucky's ass all over the world if they had to.

Well. Maybe they could all three go off, and hunt HYRDA.

Bucky reached out and took his Guide's hand.

~ ~ ~ ~

Epilogue

When Tony was four his mother took him to the doctor. Not because of the funny, weird feeling in his chest – Maria had been delighted the first time he'd mentioned it, or so he'd been made to understand when he was older. Tony couldn't remember when the feeling had begun, but he remembered going to the doctor and having a very cold stethoscope placed on his chest. There were a lot of other tests, but finally the doctor had declared him perfectly healthy and – probably – making up stories about a True's Tug.

Tony learned very quickly not to talk about how it continued to come and go. He know his parents were unhappy about it, but didn't understand why until he got old enough to research Sentinels and Guides and realise that whichever he was, he was clearly broken. A Tug wasn't supposed to disappear unless somebody died – in which case it wouldn't come back. No one had ever heard of one that came and went like Tony's.

When Tony was eight, he made a theory – which he very carefully kept to himself – that maybe he was simply so incredibly compatible that he had a _lot_ of potential pairs. It wasn't completely unheard of – everyone knew that Captain America had been able to work with any Guide they'd given him, because of the way he'd been made. Howard certainly talked about it all the time, sounding proud and amazed and wouldn't it be wonderful if we could replicate it.

Tony pretended to himself that he might just be like Captain America somehow, and kept his head down and his mouth shut. When he was eleven they took him in for the test and he came out as a Guide.

Howard wasn't happy about that at all, even though his mom was. It wasn't until he was much older that Tony realised his father had hoped he would be a Sentinel – how appropriate for a weapons manufacturer to “manufacture” one of Nature's greatest weapons. The prestige of his son being a Sentinel would have been a thing Howard could have finally bragged about. Instead Tony was a Guide – an assistant, in Howard's mind. A mere helper -- something that even latents could be trained to do in the absence of a full Guide. 

Eventually it didn't matter. In college Tony spent a couple of semesters trying to research Sentinel-Guide pairs and the mechanics of the Tug. His had continued to flicker off and on; sometimes he could feel it for weeks before it vanished for months. Sometimes it came to life for only a day or two. Once it was gone for nearly a year and Tony had started to wonder if his Sentinel had finally died.

It didn't take very long for Tony to determine that soft sciences were boring compared to Mechanical Engineering, and besides which nobody had ever heard of such a thing as Tony's particular situation. He finally decided that maybe his Sentinel was in some sort of coma in a hospital – which didn't really make sense because over the years it had pointed in every direction possible, at all different strengths, which indicated distance. But he had no other answer and Tony _hated_ not having answers, so he turned his attention to things he could do and tried hard not too think about it. 

Drinking, partying, and drugs were a good distraction from everything. He spent his working time designing weapons for Howard and pretending he didn't miss when his chest felt empty. 

One of the first tasks Tony set for JARVIS was keeping track of the direction, the timing, and how strong the Tug felt. Tony didn't know how he'd use the information to track down his Sentinel, but eventually something had to happen. 

He couldn't imagine going his entire life without ever meeting his Sentinel.

He did meet Sentinels, constantly. Early on his parents had brought them over, hoping one of them would bond with Tony. Rich and powerful people hired Sentinels as personal bodyguards and the prestige of having Tony Stark as the Sentinel's guide meant Howard would stand to make good connections.

None of them were his, and over the years Tony had learned to understand that most unpaired Sentinels who tracked him down really did only want to find what they all wanted – their True. But he never bonded with any of them. Some of them left quickly, some of them stuck around and let Tony learn how to be a Guide. Over his life he'd met all kinds – from eleven year olds fresh from testing, eager parents shoving them forward, to old men and women who'd lost their Guide and were hoping for a second chance.

After Afghanistan Tony had other concerns than finding his Sentinel, and becoming Iron Man had finally felt like the one best thing he had ever done. He finally felt like _himself_ , not half of something that didn't exist.

He met Clint and Phil, and tried very hard not to envy them; when Phil died he helped Nat hold onto Clint, keep him grounded and steady as the worst of the grief slowly ebbed. They stepped back, then, to let Clint make his choice with a somewhat clearer head. Sentinels and Guides didn't always outlive one another, especially when they were soulmates, but Clint decided he would serve Phil's memory better if he kept being an Avenger, helping to save the world.

Nat had Guided for him before, and was willing to do it again. She'd only ever tested as a latent, but she'd picked up the tricks of it over the years of being Clint's partner. With Tony it was easier, working together almost effortlessly. In the field he usually left Nat to it simply because Clint was used to her, but once they were home, it was Tony that Clint would turn to, looking for a watchful eye while he trained, or simply needing a sense-connection to keep him grounded.

He liked lying on the couch with Tony running his fingers through his hair, focusing on the feel of it and letting his other senses go. Nat teased him about growing his hair out so Tony could braid it, and eventually Clint would lever himself off the couch and chase Nat down and Tony would have to remind everybody about fire damage and not in the penthouse, use the training facilities, they're built for that kind of thing, don't make me clean up blood you two.

On missions it was Steve that Tony Guided, and it was almost everything he'd imagined it would be. There wasn't the same kind of connection as he had with Clint; he and Steve had to make an effort that simply wasn't needed when he Guided for Clint. Tony and Bruce offered several times to hook them all up to some monitors so they could do science.

Steve declined politely, then less politely, then finally he just glared and Tony decided maybe they would study something else instead. All in good scientific fun, he'd insisted, and Steve didn't hold a grudge, except maybe the next time they sparred he might have thrown his shield a tiny bit harder than was strictly necessary.

Tony was just glad he sparred in his suit. (He knew Steve would never try to hurt him, but he did make a mental note about just how much he should annoy the other man -- which he promptly discarded because how was that fun.)

And he kept adding data to JARVIS' tracking program, whenever his own Sentinel was awake. The pattern never really changed, always off and on and all over the globe, and it never made any more sense than it had when he'd been four years old.

Then DC happened, and Tony had been glued to the screens, wanting to yell at Steve for going in without a Guide, only then he _had_ a Guide, one who'd lost his Sentinel overseas, and Nat called and gave him all the good gossip about Sam Wilson. Tony checked into all of his records and had to admit if Captain America was going to have the closest he could get to a True Guide, Sam Wilson was probably the best choice he could have made.

He asked Nat to let him know if they needed to send a basket of rosebuds to adorn their marital bed, and Nat said how she didn't want Steve to take her head off, and hung up on him.

Tony turned to go back to work, because the helicarriers clearly had too many security issues. If anyone ever decided to rebuild an agency like what S.H.I.E.L.D. was supposed to have been, they needed to avoid repeating this sort of disaster. 

Then the tug on his chest changed. It had shown up a few days ago and now it was moving – not unusual itself, but after Tony gave JARVIS a fifth data point, his AI had cleared its throat and Tony hadn't needed the nudge.

The Tug was coming from the same direction, growing slowly stronger. A straight line, aimed at him.

Tony waited a day to be sure, because his Sentinel had traveled in straight lines before, and sometimes he'd been very, very close. Then he got JARVIS to hack into all the surveillance satellites available and focus the cameras.

It took only several minutes before JARVIS brought it up on a screen. It was a hiking trail in the mountains; the Appalachian Trail, JARVIS helpfully explained, and along the trail off to one side at a distance of a mile exactly, was a figure.

JARVIS zoomed in without being asked, until Tony could see his Sentinel's face.

Oh.

Tony rubbed at his chest. 

“JARVIS, check the records Nat dumped, for everything concerning Bucky Barnes and the Winter Soldier.”

He took the night to read through everything, once, then twice, then he set them aside and stared at the wall. HYDRA had taken Barnes, tortured and brainwashed him into becoming their assassin. They'd shoved him into cryo in between missions, which explained everything about the on again off again Tony had felt his entire life. HYDRA had sent the Winter Soldier all over the world, doing all the dirtiest work they needed doing.

They'd killed Tony's parents.

His Sentinel. His, and according to the sensation in his chest, his True. 

Tony stood up. “Keep sending me directions,” he told JARVIS, though he didn't honestly think he would need them. Barnes was making steady progress – following the hiking trail but coming directly towards Tony.

He climbed into the first car he saw, waved at JARVIS to lock up behind him, and drove south.

 

The end


End file.
